gardez la reine
by soft kitty of doom
Summary: The crown was a dried braided vine with entwined lilies and daisies littering the edges. It was hand-made and she touched it lightly, because she didn't want to break it. / Molly Weasley was a queen and they all knew it.


**Written for The Quidditch League Competition**

 **Team:** _**Kenmare Kestrels**_

 **Position:** _**Captain**_

 _ **Round 13 - prompt: write about a dominant character. - include the chess piece queen**_

 ** _I wrote about Molly Weasley. :) This is slightly AU. With Ronald and Ginny being a few years younger than the other children. The title translates to 'protect the queen!' a phrase that was frenquently used in the past to announce to the opponent that their queen was under attack. Similiar to 'check' that is used for the king.  
_**

 **Beta'd: _the lovely dessie (desertredwolf) and the honey muffin cel (celinarose)_  
**

* * *

Parchment paper crinkled as she crushed it in her fist, tighter, tighter, and tighter. Like maybe it would disappear the smaller she made it. Like it would turn to dust in her palm. Maybe it would give her some feeling of control of their falling finances and rising expenses.

Her chest tightened before she sighed.

 _It doesn't matter,_ she told herself sternly.

But it didn't make the disappointment lessen in her chest.

...

As a child, she remembered her brothers would carry her out to their small backyard. They would make dead flowers bloom and have tiny pebbles disappear within their fingertips. They told her that school was magical and, like her mother and father before her, she would travel to this school and be able to control magic.

Oh, she knew what magic was. It was simple to have, but not easy to control.

They teased her. They told her that her accidental magic would send her falling into the arms of the man she would love, her prince charming. Of course, her pretty little face flushed, and she smacked both of them upside the head for talking about foolish things.

But they were correct.

Some disrespectful boy had made rude advances towards her and she couldn't find it in herself to control her magic. The pitcher of pumpkin juice floated up into the air with several children watching it in surprise. Unfortunately, her accidental magic had never had a very good aim and it plopped over the head of the rather surprised Head Boy.

Flustered, she darted forward and started to apologize profusely. _(I'm sorry! I didn't see you. I'm constantly doing accidental magic. Ma said I had a bit of a temper problem—)_

She stopped.

Though his red hair was dripping with pumpkin juice, his warm brown eyes met hers curiously with a sheepish smile, and she thought to herself — dizzily and quite taken aback — that he looked very cute.

...

His brown eyes met hers as he knelt down in front of her chair.

"I'm sorry."

There were tired lines on his face. His face... He was so young. She wanted to scream that this wasn't _fair._ To her. To him. Not when they worked so hard. He continued regretfully. "This isn't the life I meant to give you. I meant to give you riches."

Something about his face lit the same spark she felt when she had first dumped a pitcher of pumpkin juice over him. She shifted her small child in her arms, her three-year-old boy — Bill — and leaned down to meet her husband's face. Tired and weary. She replied quietly.

"Why, when I have everything I ever dreamed of having?"

Molly Weasley firmly flicked the letter of demotion into the flames and watched it burn. Money or _not._

 _Still…_

She murmured softly, "You gave me a family."

With a steady hand, she smoothed his hair, resting her hand on his neck.

 _I can still be queen, if you are my king_

* * *

It felt like someone was pressing a bag of rocks against her chest, heavy and nearly impossible to breath. Percy was glaring at her after his short burst of anger that had rang across the dinner table like a death sentence.

They didn't have anything.

He was tired of it.

Molly knew that. Each of her children had complained about it at least once or twice before when they had grown old enough to understand. It was Arthur who took them away to explain it to them, sometimes it was her who scolded them, or snapped at them when they got out of hand.

But this was silly, quiet, twelve-year old Percy who had shouted, _'This is enough! Why was it always hand-me-downs — why, mum?'_ It had startled Charlie and Bill into surprised silence from across the table. The young twins were torn between watching their older sibling and their mother, turning back and forth. Obviously, they were expecting her to scold him for speaking like that to her.

Arthur wasn't here today.

She was just so tired. Pregnant, tired, and disappointed in herself.

Molly didn't know why herself, but enough was _enough._ Her hands gripped the sides of her dress.

She burst into tears.

Percy recoiled instantly.

The situation was ignored for weeks. Much to Molly's relief.

...

"Mum!"

Molly paused her knitting to look down at one of the twins at her feet. "Yes, Fred?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "I'm George, Mum." He sighed dramatically for a ten-year old. "Honestly..."

She smiled brightly behind a half-finished winter sweater. Fred had a small scar under his chin from a small accident when he was still in diapers, while George had more freckles that decorated his nose. It was these small details that helped her keep them apart.

Not that she would ever tell them that.

Molly continued her knitting. This was Fred she was talking to — without a doubt — and George was sitting next to him, wrinkling his freckled nose in mock distaste of their observant mother. She apologized lightly. "Sorry, dear. What did you need?"

"We want to give you something." Bill answered for his brother, circling around from the back of the chair and started to tug the knitting needles out of her hands.

"What—" She reluctantly let go of the yarn and needle. Bill was rather insistent about it. With faint surprise, Molly felt something soft and scratchy get placed on her head.

After a moment, Charlie dropped a mirror in front of her, helpfully and remarked dryly. "Sorry, mum. It took me a while to find the mirror." He paused and added, unnecessary. "It was in Percy's room."

The group of boys snickered at the distant whine she heard from behind her — obviously Percy —and she stared at the flower crown on her head.

The crown was a dried braided vine with entwined lilies and daisies littering the edges. It was hand-made and she touched it lightly, because she didn't want to break it.

"Did you make this?" She turned to a proud looking Charlie. Only one of her boys was nimble enough to braid like this.

He grinned. "I made the base."

George piped up. "And we collected—"

"—the flowers," Fred finished.

Molly glanced at her eldest son who was grinning sheepishly. "I put it together," he commented wryly. "And Ronald helped. He kept eating the flowers."

"But that's isn't—"

"—all there is to it!" The twins leapt to their feet and started dragging an embarrassed Percy in front of her. She watched with an amused tug to her lips. Percy looked uncomfortable and flustered, as he tried to escape their grip.

"What did Percy do?" she asked her smiling son, who was leaning over her chair.

Charlie replied, "It was his idea."

 _Oh._

Percy looked defeated in the arms of his younger brothers. Fred slyly spoke up from his side. "He said you were a queen, mum."

George continued, just as slyly, "And he spoke up out there in the backyard. All indignant and such — saying you deserved better and maybe a crown."

Percy protested weakly, "I just suggested the crown..."

But his words were drowned down by the twins wrapping their arms around him and tugging him forward. Percy's ears were bright red, leaving Molly with no doubt of his involvement in the matter.

With smile, she placed down the mirror, her hands trembling.

"Mum?"

That was Percy. Silly, sweet Percy — the one that she never got to make understand, the one that never apologized, the one who kept himself away from away from everyone. This band was Charlie: dependable and strong, able to build anything out of nothing. This was the twins, bright and innocent. And Bill, who kept it together.

But _Percy..._ he made it, too.

"Percy... " She held out her arm and gestured him forward, her eyes shining. Percy hesitated, but both of the twins shoved him forward and he stumbled. He never stopped though, and he stumbled right into her open arms.

There was a light murmur of laughter from young group around them.

Molly leaned down and whispered. "I'm sorry, everyone. You should have so much better." Bill knelt down on her side and shook his head.

"You don't understand, mum. You gave us everything we could ever want." A wide grin spread out on his handsome face. "You gave us a family."

Molly could feel tears start form and she tried to wipe them away fruitlessly from her eyes. "I—"

This time, it was George who spoke up. "You're our queen, mum." He paused before he added. "Deal with it."

She let out a watery laugh and held Percy closer to her chest.

When Molly glanced up, she saw Arthur leaning against the doorway, watching them all with a fond smile. Their eyes met and he bent low at waist in elaborate bow, just like a knight bowing down to royalty. Ron was standing … well, _attempting_ to stand at his side. Arthur was holding him up. It was awkward for a bow, but it was adorable. Her hand trailed over her stomach where the rest of her family was waiting to be born.

 _Queen, huh?_

Molly Weasley adjusted the crown on her head and smiled.

 _Yes... I got more than I could ever want._


End file.
